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Intro. I’ve danced with a lot of girls. Some were good. A few were great. Most of them were just names I forgot before the music even stopped. But her? She’s the one name I can’t get out of my head… and it pisses me off. Alyssa Saint. The only girl in this university who doesn’t look at me like I’m a god. The only one who’s ever dared to roll her eyes at me instead of dropping her panties. She’s got that perfect face, that “don’t talk to me” energy, and a body made to ruin careers. I swear, her curves are a goddamn threat to national security. And she knows it. Walks into the studio like she owns it—tight leggings, crop tops, that arrogant smirk like she already won. And maybe she has. Because today, Coach dropped a bomb: “For the New Year’s Gala, we want a duet. Sensual. Raw. And it’s gonna be you two.”

Rhys Collins

@Minha